To ruin an Omega

Chapter 161: Mr Do Better

CIAN

I looked between them—these two people who had raised Fia and failed her so completely. Who had let one daughter torture another under their own roof. Who had the audacity to come here and demand to see her like they had any right.

“I’ll tell you what I want.” I paused. Let the silence stretch. “Fia told me what her favorite food is. Something her mother used to make for her with her own recipe. She says no one could ever get it right.” I kept my eyes on Isobel. “But yours was manageable.”

I pulled out my phone, opened the notes app. The screen glowed between us.

“I want the recipe. The exact way you prepare it. Written here.”

The confusion that crossed their faces was almost comical. Joseph’s brow furrowed. Isobel’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. They looked at each other, then back at me. Like they were trying to find the trick, the hidden blade in my words.

I held the phone out. Waited.

“Too lax?” I asked.

“No.” Joseph’s response came fast. “I apologize.”

He reached for the phone. His hands were steadier than I expected as he took it from me. I watched his thumbs move across the screen, typing slowly but deliberately. The silence was thick. Isobel shifted beside him but said nothing. I could hear Joseph’s breathing, could see the slight tremor in his fingers that he was trying to hide.

The seconds dragged. I kept my expression neutral, my posture relaxed. Inside, something twisted. This recipe wouldn’t fix anything. Wouldn’t heal the wounds or undo the years of neglect. But it was something Fia wanted. Something that connected her to a mother she’d lost. And if I could give her that, then I would take it from these people who had taken so much from her already.

“I’m done.”

Joseph held the phone out. I took it back and looked at the screen.

Palm oiled beans. The ingredients were listed carefully. Measurements in cups and tablespoons. Instructions that went step by step through the preparation. Soak the beans overnight. Rinse three times. The specific type of palm oil to use. The way to season it, when to add each ingredient. It was detailed. Thorough.

“I see.”

I locked the phone and slipped it back into my pocket. Joseph was still on his knees, looking up at me with that desperate hope in his eyes. Pathetic.

“Does that mean you will forget the deception charge?”

“Yes.”

The relief that flooded his face made my stomach turn.

“But your daughter still has to pay for her other crimes.”

“I want that too.” Joseph’s voice came quickly. “I promise Hazel will not get off this easy.”

“Good.” I crossed my arms. “As long as she faces the elder court.”

Isobel’s voice cut in, sharp with panic. “If she faces them…” She looked at her husband. “She would be in trouble. It would be bad for our pack.”

I looked at her. Really looked at her. This woman who had raised Fia after killing her mother. Who had the gall to play victim here.

“Hate us all you want,” Isobel continued. Her voice had gone softer, pleading. “But we are still your in-laws.”

The word felt wrong coming from her mouth. In-laws. Like there was some bond there, some obligation I owed them. Like they hadn’t forfeited any claim to connection the moment they let one daughter nearly kill the other.

“Then your daughter better have a good defense.”

I turned to leave. My hand was on the door handle when Joseph’s voice stopped me.

“If you knew Fia, you would know she wouldn’t want this for her sister.”

I paused. I didn’t bother to turn around.

“She is only angry right now,” Joseph went on. “She was angry that I did not believe her. Which is why she took such a drastic choice.” He was talking faster now, words tumbling out. “Now… now that the truth is out… She will want to drop this.”

My jaw tightened. I looked back at him over my shoulder.

“She won’t.”

Joseph opened his mouth. I cut him off.

“But let us say she does.” I turned fully to face them again. “I don’t want to.”

Joseph’s face fell.

“Deception aside. Attempted murder is attempted murder.” I let each word land clearly. “And she has done it before. With that Sentinel. I think his name was Milo.”

The color drained from Joseph’s face.

“His family would want justice too. Don’t you think?”

The silence that followed was absolute. I could see Joseph processing it, see the moment he realized the depth of what Hazel had done. What he had failed to see. Isobel had gone very still beside him.

I smiled. There was no warmth in it.

“Rest, in-laws. You will need it.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I pushed the door open and stepped back into the room, pulling it shut firmly behind me. The silence inside was a relief after the tension in the hallway. Peaceful. Safe.

Fia lay exactly where I’d left her. Her face was pale against the pillow, but her breathing was even. Strong.

I moved to the bedside. Looked down at her. Even unconscious, she was beautiful. My chest ached with it.

I reached out and ran my fingers through her hair. The strands were soft, sliding through my fingers like silk. I’d almost lost this. Almost lost her because for the moment , I’d been too blind to see what was right in front of me. Because I’d let the past hold on to me again.

Never again.

“It’s time to go home now.”

I said it quietly, even though I knew she couldn’t hear me. Maybe I was saying it for myself. Maybe I just needed to say the words out loud, to make them real.

I slipped one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. She was lighter than she should be. Had she been eating enough? Another thing I’d failed to notice. Another way I’d let her down.

I lifted her carefully, cradling her against my chest. Her head lolled slightly before settling against my shoulder. The weight of her felt right. Felt like something I should have been protecting all along.

Right now, all that mattered was getting her somewhere safe. Somewhere that was ours.

Home. Where I could watch over her properly. Where I could make sure that when she woke up, she would see that things were different now. That I was different. That I would believe her, protect her, stand by her the way I should have from the beginning.

The recipe in my phone felt like a small thing. Inadequate, really, in the face of everything else. But it was a start. A tangible piece of her mother’s memory that I could give back to her. Something that said I heard what you wanted. I paid attention. You matter.

I carried her toward the door. My arms were steady. My grip was sure. Whatever came next, whatever battles we’d face with her family or with Gabriel or with any other threat that emerged, we’d face it together.

This time, I’d do better.

I had to.